It's Your World, Burb. We just live in it.
Burb, what a pity that your comments were slimed by slimy bloggers. That facial hair/vagina confusion post was great! Fearing that my comment would be buried, and knowing that I would probably drone on and on, I decided to post my comment here.
By the way, if you are wondering WTF, check out Burb's site at www.whywontyougrow.blogspot.com.
Before I get into it, what do YOU think of that Slate article, Burb? Posting a provocative article and posing its questions while not answering them yourself is, well, not very manly. Or were you just being polite? Seeing as how you are one of the only fathers who regularly reads our little circle of blogs, your comments would be most welcome.
First . . . the beard. I say ditch the goatees and go straight for the full, manly beard. Is there a man more man than you? No? Then grow a beard and prove it for those of us who are on the outside.
Second . . . men who can't get it up once they've seen their wives push one out. A baby, that is. This topic came up during our girl's day out to Athens! The overwhelming response in my car was, basically, "Fuck 'em! Stupid Madonna/Whore Complex-stewin' creeps!" But, having thought more about it, and not having read the original article that started it all, I'd have to say that maybe our judgement was a little harsh.
I personally can't imagine Kevin not being present for the birth of our children. I don't understand why fathers wouldn't want to be part of that experience. It's rare, and interesting, and, yes, 'special'. However, being present in the room and supporting his gal doesn't mean that he has to watch the baby emerge from her wildly contorted vagina! I can certainly understand why anyone would be squeamish about that--I wouldn't want to watch a liposuction, or knee surgery, or a colonoscopy. It's fascinating, sure, but kind of a big mess!
I also realize that it's tough for a loving guy to hear his lover bellow like a dying animal. Even with epidurals and C-sections, many women go through hours of labor. Those of us who stupidly chose to forgo drugs carry on for a loooooooong time. It hurts. You've heard comedians yammer about what it feels like--I believe it was Carole Burnett who said it felt like pulling your bottom lip over the top of your head. Bill Cosby related that his wife did nothing but yell obscene things at him--a routine that has become the annoying standard in every movie and TV show since. But neither one quite has it. No one has pulled their lower lip over their head, so it's tough to relate. But everyone has had diarrhea. Imagine the most painful diarrhea cramps you've ever had--when you're dreaming of a toilet, sweating, cold-sweating, and it feels like a very large man has his hands on your guts and is squeezing, twisting, and pulling. Got it? Now magnify by, oh 5-7, give yourself 10-20 seconds between spasms, and then don't poop. Never poop. Do not relieve yourself. That's the advanced stage of labor, baby. The "transition", as they so helpfully say. When you finally get around to telling the nurse-midwife "I have to poop", that signals the time to start pushing. NOW the baby is ready for the trip through the tiny tunnel! Hours and hours of increasing pain leading to near complete physical and emotional exhaustion, and now the baby decides he is ready. Yes, she is ready for you to put in more physical exertion than you've ever exerted in your life, just to "push! push! push!", feel her move about 1/8 of an inch and . . . then . . . slink back in about 2 feet.
After Stevie was born, I asked Kevin what it was like to be there. (I was in another world--a world . . . of pain. Boo hoo!) He wasn't grossed out by anything he saw--and he saw plenty, or by cutting the gristle-y umbilical cord, or all the blood, or anything physical. He said "I never want to see you in that much pain again." Awwwwww.
So I can see how the memory of watching and hearing a woman--your woman--give birth might creep into your mind and destroy the image of your gal as a pink lacy sexx thang. Her vagina is no longer your vagina. It is just one of millions of vaginas that do spooky things to bring more of whatever species into the world. It's a lot like breasts that are actually employed to feed babies--they are no longer perky bra-stuffers, waiting patiently for some frat boy to throw water on them so the carrier can wiggle around.They are swollen, rock-hard organic formula deployers, absolutely too painful to touch, and, on a fair-skinned gal, resemble a road map of rural West Virginia if West Virginia's roads were constructed of veins. A lot of men are grossed out by all of this. It's understandable!
But I would have a hard time understanding. It smacks too much of unfortunate (yes, unfortunate) men who, for whatever reason, cannot span the gap between their image of women as either virginal mamas or dirty girls. Most men don't get to this point in a vacuum--these messages are all around and have been forever--so it's tough to release the hounds in isolation. Still, it's an outdated, sexist notion that screws with healthy sexuality. Men (and women) can get beyond this notion! Perhaps the bile mentioned in the article is really meant for those men who don't just have the problem, but refuse to acknowledge that it is a problem. If a man only sees a woman's body in terms of his own pleasure, and can't reconcile the fact that vaginas and breasts are fun yet have a biological life of their own, he has a problem.
I think that many women are really tired of bearing the brunt of men's haphazard sexual views of them. For the most part, the women deemed most "fuckable" are those who constantly cover up their biological selves. They stuff goo-filled whoopie cushions under their rib cages to create absolutely unreal profiles. They scrub and lacquer and comb and shave until every last whiff and stray hair of nature is hidden. So when a woman does all of this and then some guy goes to town and deposits a very biological load of DNA into her vagina, and she goes through the natural process of pregnancy and childbirth, and then that same guy says "Ew!", it's quite annoying.
There's more I could say. I could say that I have a dual-purpose vagina and can happily report that one use does not negate the other. I could say that there are a lot of women who are disgusted by the dual-purpose of the penis and leave their husbands dreaming about BJs for the rest of their married lives because they just can't bring themselves to put that thing into their winterfresh mouths! (And we all know how frustrating that must be because "What man would want to go the rest of his life without a BJ once he's had one"? Huh? Boo-yah!) But I'll end by saying that it's his problem and his responsibility to get over it. And if he won't? (Don't) Fuck 'em!
By the way, if you are wondering WTF, check out Burb's site at www.whywontyougrow.blogspot.com.
Before I get into it, what do YOU think of that Slate article, Burb? Posting a provocative article and posing its questions while not answering them yourself is, well, not very manly. Or were you just being polite? Seeing as how you are one of the only fathers who regularly reads our little circle of blogs, your comments would be most welcome.
First . . . the beard. I say ditch the goatees and go straight for the full, manly beard. Is there a man more man than you? No? Then grow a beard and prove it for those of us who are on the outside.
Second . . . men who can't get it up once they've seen their wives push one out. A baby, that is. This topic came up during our girl's day out to Athens! The overwhelming response in my car was, basically, "Fuck 'em! Stupid Madonna/Whore Complex-stewin' creeps!" But, having thought more about it, and not having read the original article that started it all, I'd have to say that maybe our judgement was a little harsh.
I personally can't imagine Kevin not being present for the birth of our children. I don't understand why fathers wouldn't want to be part of that experience. It's rare, and interesting, and, yes, 'special'. However, being present in the room and supporting his gal doesn't mean that he has to watch the baby emerge from her wildly contorted vagina! I can certainly understand why anyone would be squeamish about that--I wouldn't want to watch a liposuction, or knee surgery, or a colonoscopy. It's fascinating, sure, but kind of a big mess!
I also realize that it's tough for a loving guy to hear his lover bellow like a dying animal. Even with epidurals and C-sections, many women go through hours of labor. Those of us who stupidly chose to forgo drugs carry on for a loooooooong time. It hurts. You've heard comedians yammer about what it feels like--I believe it was Carole Burnett who said it felt like pulling your bottom lip over the top of your head. Bill Cosby related that his wife did nothing but yell obscene things at him--a routine that has become the annoying standard in every movie and TV show since. But neither one quite has it. No one has pulled their lower lip over their head, so it's tough to relate. But everyone has had diarrhea. Imagine the most painful diarrhea cramps you've ever had--when you're dreaming of a toilet, sweating, cold-sweating, and it feels like a very large man has his hands on your guts and is squeezing, twisting, and pulling. Got it? Now magnify by, oh 5-7, give yourself 10-20 seconds between spasms, and then don't poop. Never poop. Do not relieve yourself. That's the advanced stage of labor, baby. The "transition", as they so helpfully say. When you finally get around to telling the nurse-midwife "I have to poop", that signals the time to start pushing. NOW the baby is ready for the trip through the tiny tunnel! Hours and hours of increasing pain leading to near complete physical and emotional exhaustion, and now the baby decides he is ready. Yes, she is ready for you to put in more physical exertion than you've ever exerted in your life, just to "push! push! push!", feel her move about 1/8 of an inch and . . . then . . . slink back in about 2 feet.
After Stevie was born, I asked Kevin what it was like to be there. (I was in another world--a world . . . of pain. Boo hoo!) He wasn't grossed out by anything he saw--and he saw plenty, or by cutting the gristle-y umbilical cord, or all the blood, or anything physical. He said "I never want to see you in that much pain again." Awwwwww.
So I can see how the memory of watching and hearing a woman--your woman--give birth might creep into your mind and destroy the image of your gal as a pink lacy sexx thang. Her vagina is no longer your vagina. It is just one of millions of vaginas that do spooky things to bring more of whatever species into the world. It's a lot like breasts that are actually employed to feed babies--they are no longer perky bra-stuffers, waiting patiently for some frat boy to throw water on them so the carrier can wiggle around.They are swollen, rock-hard organic formula deployers, absolutely too painful to touch, and, on a fair-skinned gal, resemble a road map of rural West Virginia if West Virginia's roads were constructed of veins. A lot of men are grossed out by all of this. It's understandable!
But I would have a hard time understanding. It smacks too much of unfortunate (yes, unfortunate) men who, for whatever reason, cannot span the gap between their image of women as either virginal mamas or dirty girls. Most men don't get to this point in a vacuum--these messages are all around and have been forever--so it's tough to release the hounds in isolation. Still, it's an outdated, sexist notion that screws with healthy sexuality. Men (and women) can get beyond this notion! Perhaps the bile mentioned in the article is really meant for those men who don't just have the problem, but refuse to acknowledge that it is a problem. If a man only sees a woman's body in terms of his own pleasure, and can't reconcile the fact that vaginas and breasts are fun yet have a biological life of their own, he has a problem.
I think that many women are really tired of bearing the brunt of men's haphazard sexual views of them. For the most part, the women deemed most "fuckable" are those who constantly cover up their biological selves. They stuff goo-filled whoopie cushions under their rib cages to create absolutely unreal profiles. They scrub and lacquer and comb and shave until every last whiff and stray hair of nature is hidden. So when a woman does all of this and then some guy goes to town and deposits a very biological load of DNA into her vagina, and she goes through the natural process of pregnancy and childbirth, and then that same guy says "Ew!", it's quite annoying.
There's more I could say. I could say that I have a dual-purpose vagina and can happily report that one use does not negate the other. I could say that there are a lot of women who are disgusted by the dual-purpose of the penis and leave their husbands dreaming about BJs for the rest of their married lives because they just can't bring themselves to put that thing into their winterfresh mouths! (And we all know how frustrating that must be because "What man would want to go the rest of his life without a BJ once he's had one"? Huh? Boo-yah!) But I'll end by saying that it's his problem and his responsibility to get over it. And if he won't? (Don't) Fuck 'em!
posted by lulu | 5:48 AM
3 Comments:
Well then.
I have impregnated my wife twice, so that helps to answer the question of whether being present at the first birth (yes, of course) grossed me out for another go.
But Ariel was a cesearian, so it's not quite the same.
With Ruth, it was a complete vagina birth and it WAS an eye-opener. (I am not squeamish and actually love anatomy and the study of the body, but it was very up front and personal.)
With Ariel c-section, I was told very clearly to sit still and don't touch blue things. I kind of froze and was limited in my vision of what they were doing in the abdomen. So I comforted Tegan and kept her calm.
With Ruth I was alternating between help T. near her head and getting a view of things down where the doctors were.
So, I've seen calm and I've seen pain (take THAT James Taylor).
And through it all, my wife is still the sexiest woman I know.
That is incredibly sweet. And very healthy!
I wouldn't be surprised if some poll showed that male sci fi fans found the whole birthing experience much more enjoyable than regular guys.
What's weird about this whole thing is that today's post was supposed to be about James Taylor and the whole objective/subjective nature of music! And you picked up on that somehow!
Well then indeed. Was it Michael McClure who wrote a play, "The Beard," about that very confusion? And other less delicate terms that need not be repeated (such a prude I am). Ultimately, I'm no different from any other guy, but when it comes down to which you prefer, a real woman or a surgically altered simulation of an air-brushed picture of a professionally primped and painted mannequin, I prefer the real thang. Some don't, that's their business I guess. There was never any question of whether I would be present at the birth of our two magical children; I knew we wouldn't be having very many, and I didn't want to miss a thing. I knew young men who were told they probably wouldn't even LIKE their baby until it was two or three, and sure enough they were a tad grossed out. Maybe they should just hire somebody to take care of all the yucky details, so Mammah and Pappah can just show up at ceremonial occasions and be proud. But I digress. Thanks for your, um, graphic descriptions, Lulu. I'll remember in particular that "it's tough to release the hounds in isolation."
Post a Comment
<< Home